


Christmas Plans

by Kissa



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Anarchy, Assassination, Christmas, Christmas Time, Gen, august walker lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: You are August's girlfriend and, as a Christmas gift, you need his help - and he has to get it done before you and your friends meet for Christmas lunch at a snazzy, low key place.
Relationships: August Walker/Reader
Kudos: 14





	Christmas Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Walker_August](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/gifts).



> We are back in the saddle, folks! It's Christmas time and August is BUSYYYY! Doing what August does best.

The man poured himself another whisky and grunted. Not two meters away from him, strippers were gyrating on the poles. His bodyguards watched from the shadows and the young girl next to him eyed his steak longingly as she ate her small bowl of rice pudding.  
  
Soon, the procession of congratulations from the other people in his very exclusive club began. It wasn’t every day the biggest mafia boss got married for the fifth time - to a fifteen year old catalog order bride, freshly delivered by his human trafficking side business.  
  
***  
  
 _Two weeks earlier  
_  
  
“What did you have in mind for Christmas, love?” August asked, toweling his hair dry, mindful of his burnt side and using the small towel. The slightly bigger one was currently hugging his hips as he exited the shower cabin.  
  
He trimmed his moustache with precise, practiced movements, waiting for your answer.  
  
“I don’t know, there’s a place in London I want to go to… it’s very hipster. I’m afraid you’ll have to wear suspenders *and* a turtleneck to be allowed in.”  
  
“Or they can go for the vegan option - they can make do with my being in a suit or fuck off.” August muttered.  
  
You snickered.  
  
“But please, no tie. A minimum of two buttons undone.”  
  
You stood in the doorway to the bathroom and caught August’s eye in the mirror.  
  
“I also need a favour.”  
  
“I’m listening.”  
  
You placed a file onto the edge of the sink and opened it.  
  
“Anton de Veer. Billionaire. Involved in every dodgy business you can think of. Overpriced necessary pharmaceuticals, fracking, trawler fishing, man-made droughts, human trafficking, weapons dealing under the table, aircraft theft, bioterrorism. I need him gone by Christmas.”  
  
“I’m sure you could do it, no sweat.” August said, looking at the man’s unibrow in one of the pics on the file.  
  
“With significantly great trouble. He is more suspicious of women. And he already knows and respects John Lark, the famous anarchist who turned the CIA into a scrambling pile of half-wits. And who escaped capture to this day.”  
  
“Seems easy enough.”  
  
“De Veer can smell a gun. You will kill him with a knife.”  
  


***

“If it isn’t John Lark.” De Veer said, looking August up and down and nodding. “I heard you’d died.”  
  
“I’d worry if I didn’t have death rumours. In my line of work…” August said, letting the men search him *way* too carefully. He had intentionally worn a dressy, but thin outfit, a white suit with only a shirt and briefs underneath.  
  
“Right. Come see me later at the bath house. We need to talk business. Be there, Lark. It’s important. Until then, rejoice with us. I hope the food and drink are to your liking.”  
  
“Later” became the next day, and August saw himself having to sleep at de Veer’s mansion. In the morning, after skipping breakfast, he was told to join the boss in the bath house - an establishment that closed to the public whenever de Veer felt like using it. It turned out, the man used the bath house to conduct his business because it was very hard to hide recording gear on his guests’ naked bodies.  
  
This is how August found himself in the sauna section, completely naked, sweating profusely as four bodyguards watched him and de Veer talk.  
  
De Veer was a large man, a stranger to any semblance of fitness. He had probably not seen his own junk in ages.  
  
“So what business did you want to talk?” He asked de Veer, seeing the man was taking his time breaching the important topics. He had no time to waste.  
  
“Well the CIA want you dead and they felt their own man did too sloppy of a job. And I’m all the happier to have the Agency in my debt. Boys…”  
  
The bodyguards lunged at August all at once, and August had little time to react. He used the fact that the sweat and the steam made his skin slippery to his advantage and, mindful of the men’s knives, he proceeded to disarm and disable them one by one.  
  
The fight was brutal and ugly. Four fully clothed men against a naked and defenseless one seemed like a predictable result. But soon, four men lay in puddles of arterial blood on the floor of the sauna, with August standing in their midst, knife in hand.  
  
“Please! Don’t kill me. I’ll get you in on my operations. I can get you anything. Anything you want. Just don’t… what are you doing?”  
  
“I don’t see this as killing you. I’m excising a tumour. The world will be a better place without a cancer like you taking up space in it.” August said, carving the man’s generous layer of fat open as one does with a freshly slaughtered pig. He was careful enough not to cut too deeply and end the man’s suffering prematurely. “You married a child. A CHILD!” August hissed, low and menacing. “Everything you touch turns to barren desert. And you get richer and richer off of everyone’s pain.”  
  
De Veer tried to crawl away, leaving a thick bloody trail, his large body moving across the tiles of the bath house with squelching sounds.  
  
“Tell me, is your money helping you in any way right now?” August said, carving more deep cuts onto the struggling, writhing body at his feet.  
  
“You may kill me, but you’ll never stop us. I die, two more will rise in my place.” de Veer pushed out, pausing to let some blood mixed with bile drip from his lips.  
  
“That is not my problem anymore. There’s always going to be a me for every man like you.” August said, squatting over the other man’s body and slitting his throat.  
  
He stood, now covered in blood, that was clinging gruesomely to his chest hair and dripping lower, over his abs.  
  
“Merry Christmas, you vile cunt.” He spat, removing traces of his presence there and going to shower.  
  
As he exited the bath house, he climbed on his motorbike and nearly made a beeline for the airport, but he remembered one loose end.  
  
He went to de Veer’s house and shot the guards there, finding the young child bride and delivering her to the local child protective services.  
  
“Call this number. Ask for Ethan Hunt.” He instructed her, jotting down a phone number. “Forget my face.”  
  
With that, he rode to the rental place he had gotten his bike from and headed for the airport.  
  
No matter how hot he had showered, he still felt the blood from de Veer and his goons covering him. The job was starting to get to him. 

***  
  
 _Christmas Day_  
  
  
The Hansom Cab had just opened - it was a little past 11 in the morning and your friends had already ordered drinks for you and August as well.  
  
You were looking at your watch a bit too often, wondering why August wasn’t showing up. Telling yourself not to worry yet.  
  
You still felt your heart float to the surface, like a finally freed buoy on a stormy sea, when you saw him walk in.  
  
He looked impeccable. And, like you had advised, he was wearing a soft grey turtleneck with black trousers, a high-collar, very stylish and very warm coat and a white and black designer scarf.  
  
Any other man would have taken a facial burn as a disfigurement; it had made August somehow even hotter and it was all his merit. It was as though something had breathed new life into him and surviving his fall in Kashmir, with you recovering him and overseeing his healing and therapy, had made him approach life from a wholly new angle.  
  
Your friends had placed bets that your newly acquired glow was due to a pregnancy you were somehow keeping a secret. And in a way, you did have a baby growing - but the kind that would give chills to anyone who learned of it. And August’s help with taking care of de Veer would help your “baby” reach new horizons.  
  
As he sat near you and greeted you with a hurried, but nonetheless loving peck, caressing your lower back at the same time, you looked around the table.  
  
A DJ and his youtuber wife; an actor and his make up artist girlfriend; two doctors married to each other; your Goth painter childhood friend; your jiu jitsu instructor - and finally, August and you, two assassins and anarchists.   
  
Giving birth to the new world could wait until the new year. For now, it was time to dig into the flawless steak the place served. And later, getting split in half by August - over and over, if you had your way.


End file.
